


Not So Wicked

by frankenmouse



Series: DA Ficlets [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Gen Work, Reminiscing, Reunions, Starkhaven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankenmouse/pseuds/frankenmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During one of Sebastian's exploratory trips to Starkhaven he is unexpectedly confronted with his past in a small village inn. The encounter goes significantly better than he was expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Wicked

Sebastian stopped on the threshold of the tiny village inn, waiting a few moments to allow his vision to adjust. As it did, he was grateful to see that the building was relatively deserted, most of the early-rising farmers turning in hours earlier. Apart from a lone drunk dozing face down on a table near the entrance (every village had one or two), the only person still in the common room was the barmaid, who was clearly just finishing up her duties for the night, hauling a bucket of water from table to table to wipe the tops down with a damp rag. She looked up as she heard him enter and seemed to freeze, eyes wide, water dripping from her rag onto the floor. She was a pretty woman, still relatively young—certainly not much older than himself—with the bright red hair and green eyes that were not uncommon among Starkish folk. 

Stilling, Sebastian raised his empty hands before him in a placating gesture. “I apologize, serah, for startling you and for the lateness of the hour. It seems that my memory of the area was faulty and I pushed on when I would have been better served making camp. I had just resolved myself to trying to find a suitable site in the darkness when I crested a ridge and saw your lanterns.”

Whether it was his explanation or his accent Sebastian couldn’t be sure, but the barmaid relaxed enough to give him a tentative smile though she still eyed his arms and armor uncertainly. Carrying a bow was common enough, especially in an area where shepherding was the primary occupation, but the leather armor he’d chosen to wear for this trip set him apart from the farmers and merchants that were likely the inn’s usual overnight patrons. Armor could mean mercenary…or bandit. Either of which could easily be trouble, especially for a young woman who was alone. Sebastian was just grateful that his cloak concealed the daggers strapped to the small of his back. 

He hated the occasional fearful looks it all garnered him, but he wasn’t fool enough to think that his enemies had simply disappeared with the elimination of Johane Harimann. There were almost certainly a significant number of individuals who would be quite unhappy to hear that Sebastian had been showing his face in and around Starkhaven, most notably those who had supported or benefitted from Johane’s scheme. Too, travelling through Starkhaven had become—to his unhappy surprise—significantly more dangerous than it had been before his family’s fall, with several of the outlying areas having issues with banditry. Perhaps he should be thanking the Maker that the barmaid hadn’t simply shouted for help when a travel worn and armed stranger barged into her inn late at night. 

“…the night?” The barmaid looked at him expectantly and it was Sebastian’s turn to startle slightly. Dear Maker, he was near asleep on his feet and dozy with it. He hadn’t heard a word the poor woman had been saying. He refocused his attention on her and blushed slightly, embarrassed at his lapse of concentration. 

“I’m sorry, serah, I must have been gathering wool. What was it you wished to know?”

This time the smile the red-haired woman gave him was warm and genuine, her eyes glinting slightly with humor. “I asked, messere, if you might like a pint before heading to a room for the night?”

Sebastian hesitated only slightly before returning her smile and thanking her. He’d travelled more miles today than he’d intended and his feet and back were worse for the wear. He was grateful for all the time he’d spent traipsing around after Hawke, remembering how much pain he’d been in after his first trek up and back down the Sundermont after years of having done relatively little walking beyond that required of everyday city life. This was nothing compared to that, but he would relish the opportunity to simply sit and relax a bit before turning in for the night. 

Following the barmaid back to the bar, Sebastian took a seat at one of the stools, sighing slightly at finally being off his feet. He watched the barmaid expertly draw his drink and thanked her when she brought it over to him with a smile. Raising the mug to his lips, he’d just taken his first sip when the barmaid leaned slightly forward and, in a voice meant for his ears only, murmured, “It is good to see you again, Your Highness.” 

It took every ounce of Sebastian’s not inconsiderable self-control to prevent himself from reacting. Settling his features into what he hoped passed for a suitably baffled look, he raised his eyebrows, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding, and replied, “I’m sorry, serah, but I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” before casually taking another sip of ale, praying silently to the Maker that he hadn’t walked straight into a trap.

The barmaid arched a brow at him. “I’m quite certain I haven’t. You’re a difficult one to forget, though I am a bit offended that you don’t seem to remember me. Maybe if I had my kit off?” 

She flashed him a grin that landed just this side of saucy and seemed to be surprised when he choked on his drink. Coughing, he stared at her, her grin sparking memories he hadn’t explored for nearly a decade. He flushed as an image slowly unfurled in his mind. Red hair spilling across a pillow, green eyes looking up at him through long lashes, pale limbs tangled in silk sheets. A name. Leanne? No. Leah.

Sebastian attempted to compose himself. He’d been fully expecting that his…colorful past would come back to haunt him at some point during his trip, but he certainly hadn’t expected to be confronted with it so soon, nor in such a place. He cleared his throat in preparation to speak, but was cut off when Leah gently placed a hand over his where it rested, fist clenched, on the bar. 

“I’m sorry about your family,” she said, her grin fading away and her eyes softening. 

Sebastian swallowed against the sudden welling of emotion that this sincere, unexpected apology brought forth. Even years after their deaths…“I…thank you.” He subsided, still wrestling for control of his composure. Leah patted his hand before releasing it. He noticed with some surprise that she was wearing a simple gold wedding band. 

She saw him looking and gave him a sweet smile. “Ah, noticed that, did you? My Calum and I’ve been married these past five years.” Her smile took on a naughty tinge again as she continued, “I’d thought perhaps that I’d need to warn you off, but given your reaction I needn’t worry about that.” 

Finally regaining his control and feeling oddly nostalgic, Sebastian returned her smile, his lips quirking wryly. “No, that is not something that is of concern, mistress Leah. It seems that we have both come a long way since The Dove. Congratulations on your marriage. May the Maker bless you both with many happy years.”

At his blessing, Leah gave him a long, hard to read look. She remained silent long enough that Sebastian began to worry that he had overstepped. 

Still with that odd look on her face, Leah spoke, “You know, most of us didn’t think it was right, what your family did. Sending you away like that.”

Sebastian’s brows rose. That certainly hadn’t been what he’d been expecting to hear. “It was for the best,” he said, long ago having made peace with his parents’ decision. “I was destroying myself and I didn’t even know it.”

She looked at him and her expression changed into something a bit more stubborn, her arms crossed and ready to have her say. “Maybe so, but you certainly were never wicked like they said you were. Maybe a bit wild, but not wicked.” Another one of those long stares. “You know, me and the other girls were always glad when you came in. You treated us well, like we were real ladies, and the other men treated us better, too, when you were there.”

She hesitated, a bit of a smile twitching one corner of her lips up as she looked at his stunned expression. “Do you know why that was?”

Utterly lost, Sebastian shook his head, unable to formulate a reply.

Leah smiled at him. “It was because of what happened between Erin and that dock hand. Do you remember?”

Sebastian blushed deeply, feeling the tips of his ears grow warm. He shook his head again. “It shames me, but I must admit that I don’t have clear memories of many of those evenings.” He gave the pint still in his hand a quick glance. “I was often much worse for the drink.” 

Leah waved away his embarrassment. “You and half the other young men in Starkhaven. Well, I daresay I remember well enough. Erin had just gone up with one of the dockers and you were in the common room playing cards with Sarah in your lap. A couple minutes and then we all heard the shouting. Erin came bolting down the stairs with the docker chasing after her, her blouse all torn and one of her eyes already starting to swell shut. He grabbed her and was getting ready to wallop her again, with Lem—the bouncer, you remember him—all the way across the room.” 

“But then you were there, grabbing his wrist, telling him it was ill done to hit a lady. And he’s getting ready to belt you one and Lem’s still too far away and then the docker just stops and goes white because suddenly your knife’s out and threatening his tender bits. Thank the Maker that Lem finally got there and tossed the bastard out, because from the look of it you were ready to cut him.”

“And poor Erin’s there, shaking and crying. You sent one of the lads for the healer and another for the guard before asking Madam Dawn to have the guard walk the poor lass home. Then you kissed Erin on the cheek and slipped out the back before the guard showed up. She told me later that she found ten silver down her bodice when she got home.”

“After that, we knew that if you were in it was going to be a quiet night.” Leah finished her recitation with a flourish and looked at him expectantly, arms still crossed.

During her recitation Sebastian had grown steadily more abashed until he was sitting with his head propped up on a hand that covered his eyes. “Maker’s breath, it’s a miracle that I lived long enough to make it to the Chantry,” he muttered. 

Leah laughed. “Oh, aye, it wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever seen a fellow do, but it was one of the braver things. You were quite the popular lad after that.” She looked at him seriously. “You know, we were all sad to see you go when they sent you off. Oh, not just the girls at The Dove, but the regular lads as well. All the small folk, really. You were good to us, treated us like people.” 

Sebastian felt something twist in his chest at her words. He was a better man now, of that he had no doubt, and he couldn’t—wouldn’t—regret his years in the Chantry, but knowing that someone had thought well of him in those empty years after his grandfather’s death…it helped soothe a wound he hadn’t even known he still carried. 

He coughed around the lump in his throat. “I…it is….” He trailed off, overwhelmed. Her words had fed the small flame of hope he had been nursing in his heart, had made him think that perhaps, just perhaps, his task was not impossible. He looked at her and smiled warmly, trying to put at least a fraction of his gratitude into the expression, and said, “Thank you, my lady. It is good to know that even after my many indiscretions and years away there are still some in Starkhaven who might look upon me with kindness.”

It was the barmaid’s turn to blush, the color showing high on her cheeks. She rallied quickly, though, refusing to be flustered for long. “Look upon you with kindness, indeed,” she huffed dramatically. “There are no few ladies and gentlemen scattered about Starkhaven who would look upon you with a great deal more than kindness, believe you me!” She gave him an over exaggerated wink.

Sebastian laughed, feeling much lighter than he had when he first came in. 

Suddenly, heavy footsteps and a voice boomed from somewhere toward the back of the inn. “Woman! It’s well past close and I’d like to get some shut eye before the sun’s up again.” A large bearded man pushed through a door behind the bar and lumbered up to enfold Leah in a lazy embrace, leaning down to nuzzle affectionately at her neck. He shot Sebastian a friendly look. “By the looks of this fellow, so would he, no matter how charming you’re being.”

Sebastian chuckled again and drained the last of his ale before standing. “I’m afraid your husband’s right, my lady. It is late and I plan on heading off early the next morning.” His hand moved to his belt pouch. “How much do I owe you for the drink and a room for the night?”

Before her husband could say anything, Leah shook her head. “The room’s one silver, but the drink’s on the house.” She grinned at Sebastian. “Can’t be letting old friends pay for a pint I offered.”

“‘Old friends’ she says and then doesn’t even bother to introduce us!” The burly man released Leah and held out a rather large hand. “Calum Taggart.”

Sebastian shook the proffered hand. “Bastian Kirk.” He gave the assumed name easily, watching Leah out of the corner of his eye as he did so. The woman’s brows rose slightly before she gave him a very slight nod. She understood. For all intents and purposes Prince Sebastian Vael had never set foot in the small country inn, much as Prince Sebastian Vael had never set foot in The Lonesome Dove all those years ago. It was safer for both of them that way, then and now. 

After a bit more chat with Calum and Leah, who clearly adored her husband as much as he adored her, Sebastian bid the couple good night and climbed the short flight of stairs leading to the two small guest rooms on the second floor. Neither was currently occupied and were identical in all ways apart from the color of the quilt covering the small bed in each. Sebastian took the nearest room and set his pack on the floor and his borrowed candle on the hearth before fastening the door behind him. 

He stripped off his armor, setting it on the small table that was the only other furnishing apart from the bed, and readied himself for bed. Pulling back the bed sheets released the faint odor of clean straw, linens, and lavender and he couldn’t help a small groan of relief as he settled himself into the bed. Lying in the sweet smelling darkness with Leah’s words echoing in his head, Sebastian closed his eyes and, for the first time since he’d left Kirkwall, fell asleep easily and slept peacefully until dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> This piece was born out of two beliefs: 1) That younger Sebastian was unlikely to have been as much of an asshole as he tends to paint himself. Self-destructive, high handed, and a bit selfish, certainly, but not outright terrible. and 2) That his family and certain members of the Chantry almost certainly took an active role in convincing him that he was terrible. So I decided that perhaps Sebastian could use an outsider's perspective on his own checkered past. 
> 
> Critique and feedback is extremely welcome.


End file.
